


Wicked Wands

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dildos, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is appalled by George’s new partnership with Snape, because what the hell are they doing making these obscene new products? And why can’t she seem to stay away from Snape? </p><p>A companion story to the artwork <a href="http://sshg-exchange.livejournal.com/290528.html">Wicked Wands</a> by droxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Wands

 

 

* * *

“Oh my God, George, did you really?” Hermione stared at him, unable to close her mouth; she was too busy gaping. Quickly, she forced her lips together, lest Snape catch her staring.

Snape was suspiciously eyeing the Exploding Whizz Poppers at the front of the store, his hands clasped behind him as he leaned away from them. They had been ominously vibrating all morning, and Hermione was sure they would burst from their cases at some point during the day if they weren’t given a look at; annoyingly, George didn’t share her concern.

“He’s the only one who can brew the potion,” George insisted.

Hermione fought the urge to duck behind the till. She was _not_ sixteen, but in fact, a grown woman. Or, at least that’s what she felt at twenty-one. Though that didn’t stop her from feeling like she was still a student any time Severus Snape was in the near vicinity, raising a shaky hand for his attention and vying for his approval. Whatever it was about the man, his presence made her insides quiver strangely and set her stomach a-flutter.

Perhaps it was the fact he’d bullied her throughout her entire time at Hogwarts.

Hermione frowned as he finally approached the counter. She suddenly wished those Whizz Poppers had malfunctioned-- right in his face.

“Hello, Professor,” she said quietly. She realized she was standing rather rigidly, and tried to slump her shoulders in a casual manner, but that made her feel like she was awkwardly squatting.

Snape’s upper lip curled as he watched her fidget. “I’m not your professor anymore, Granger,” he said simply, and then turned to George. “Shall we get started, Weasley? I don’t have all day.”

“Right-o,” George said brightly, as though Snape weren’t, in fact, a terrible miser who sucked all the joy out of the place. “Let me go in the back and grab my notes.”

“Am I not accompanying you to your office?” Snape asked.

“‘Fraid not, no room. It’s less an office and more of a storage closet, really. Got all my experiments back there, and I never know what’s going to blow up at any moment.”

Snape silently raised an eyebrow.

“We can work out here, there’s space by the Skiving Snackboxes,” George said, pointing toward the corner, before bounding through the back door.

“Lovely,” Snape said. He took a deep breath and stood stiffly, waiting.

Hermione eyed him, aware again of how straight her back was and how rigid her muscles. How should she hold her arms? She took them off the counter and placed them behind her back, mimicking his pose. She could tell he was watching her from the corner of his eyes, because a scowl slowly formed on his lips.

“So,” she said. When he didn’t even look at her in acknowledgement, she licked her lips. “What is this big potion that nobody else can brew but you?” She had intended her voice to sound strong, but it came out high and girly.

At this, Snape turned his head to her. His scowl disappeared, instantly replaced by the hint of a smirk. “You mean you don’t know what Weasley’s working on?” A full blown, devious smile lit his face.

Hermione leaned away. “Uhm. Well. Not yet.” She added defensively, “George never tells anyone about his new projects until he’s finished with them.” When Snape continued to look amused at her expense, she said, “I think… I think it’s something to do with Fred, actually. They were always confidants in the matter, always coming up with new prank items together. As such, he’s very protective of his new ideas, and he doesn’t often share them with people until after they’re already packaged and on the shelves. I suspect it pains him a bit to do so; the whole process reminds him acutely of Fred.”

She imagined _that_ would thaw Snape’s cold demeanor a little.

She tried consciously not to squirm as Snape eyed her up and down with his infuriatingly raised eyebrow and judging look.

“What are you doing here, Granger?” he asked derisively. “Do you work here now?”

Apparently nothing thawed that icy prick, Hermione thought as her cheeks heated. She exhaled hard through her nose and pursed her lips. “I am helping George until he hires a full-time employee,” she said, raising her chin nobly. “ _Like a good friend._ ”

“Doesn’t he have twelve siblings he could ask for help?”

“Five.”

“Ah.”

“But they’re all busy.”

“I see,” he said evenly. “And you’re not.” He gave her another mocking smile.

Hermione felt her temperature rise dangerously. She had just opened her mouth when the back door flew open, and George marched through.

“All right, here,” he said, waving two scrolls of parchment. “Six feet of notes; though I’ve never been brilliant at potions, so I’m eager for you to have a look at them.”

Snape cast a smug look at Hermione -- which set her blood boiling -- before turning his back to her and following George through the aisles to their working corner.

Oh, the nerve of that man, baiting her like that. She stared at the back of his long black robes, which fell straight down from his broad shoulders, as she contemplated different hexes she’d love to practice on him.

Eventually, she noticed that a skinny teenage boy was speaking to her from the other side of the counter, trying to get her attention. Frazzled, she quickly rang him up, barely aware of what he was purchasing, before her eyes drifted back to the corner.

 

 

* * *

 

Every week, Snape came by the shop and chatted with George in the far corner. This happened about once a week, and the other days, George would leave the store to visit Snape… though God only knew where. George was so tight-lipped about everything. Hermione had one clue as to where Snape’s potions lab could be -- since he had left Hogwarts, the only other place he might brew was probably at his house in Spinner’s End. Not that she could imagine him inviting George into his home. In fact, it was rather surprising Snape was helping George at all. She wouldn't have pegged him as the helpful sort. Well, yes, he had been very helpful to the Order, but that was a different kind of helpful, not to mention an immensely important cause. It was more that she never pegged him as the chummy sort; the sort who’d help someone out as a favour just because they were pals. In fact, she doubted Snape had any pals.

Therefore, this new thing they were working on must be very special indeed if Snape were putting so many hours into it. There must be a lot of profit potential for him. She couldn’t imagine any other reason, frankly, why someone as miserable as Snape would work on a joke item for a prank shop if he weren’t expecting to make a boatload of Galleons off it.

As such, Hermione could hardly contain her curiosity as to what this new _thing_ was.

When George left for lunch one day, Hermione peeked around the shop to make sure no one was in there. Seeing as it wasn’t busy -- there was a couple of school-aged witches poking around the WonderWitch section, and a very old woman who didn’t seem the sort to purchase joke items and was most probably lost, and thus the store was uncharacteristically quiet -- Hermione pointed her wand at the back door lock.

“ _Alohomora_ ,” she whispered, tapping the lock.

“Bother,” she said when nothing happened, jabbing her wand into it. “ _George_... Doesn’t trust anyone....” she muttered as she wracked her mind for another spell. She could try an older, Latin one. “ _Recludam_.” She stared at the lock, waiting for it to click or turn or somehow exhibit its unlocking. “ _Recludam, now!_ ”

She nearly growled when nothing happened. “What kind of bloody spell did he put on --” She took the handle in hand and wriggled it repeatedly.

The handle turned, and the door creaked open.

“Oh, bloody hell,” she breathed, rolling her eyes at herself. It seemed George had forgot to even lock the door this time, and there she was…

She shot down the teensy corridor and turned the corner that led immediately into the back office. There was stuff _everywhere_. George hadn’t been lying; there was barely room for one person here, let alone two people working side by side. It looked more like someone’s overgrown attic than an office, with a desk against the wall covered in broken or mismatched pieces of machinery -- coily springs and spinny wheels and turny things and clappy things. Something sang as it let off steam behind her, and Hermione jumped, almost crashing into a lamp with blinking eyes that glared at her.

“Pardon,” she said to the lamp.

George would kill her if he knew she’d seen all his secret, as-yet-unveiled inventions. She felt the need to tip-toe around them, as if they themselves might rat on her and tell him she’d been there.

She walked straight to the desk to peer at the parchment lying on the small amount of flat space that wasn’t covered in toys. The parchment was unrolled all the way to the floor, and covered in rudimentary sketches and wiry notes. Hermione bit her lip as she tried to make out legible words.

“What are you doing in here?”

Hermione screamed and jumped, turning around and walking back into the desk.

George stood at the entrance to the office with his hands on his hips. He raised his eyebrows. “Hermione?”

“George! Back so soon? I thought… I thought you were at lunch.” She laughed nervously and grinned.

“I forgot my wallet.” He narrowed his eyes at her, walking slowly toward the desk. “Why aren’t you watching the front?”

“There was hardly anyone out there, so I thought I’d…” She swallowed. “Don’t be angry. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have been sneaking around back here, I know you don’t like it. I just --”

“Couldn’t resist any more?” he asked. A smile crossed his face.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve been dying,” she admitted.

“I could tell.”

Hermione frowned. “I wasn’t that obvious.”

“Oh, no?” George laughed. “It’s okay, I was actually thinking about telling you about this one… I can trust you.” Then he actually blushed, his cheeks reddening like Hermione had not seen on him before.

“George?”

“Actually, this isn’t just a new product, it’s a whole new line I’m experimenting with.”

“You mean, like the WonderWitch line.”

“Exactly. WonderWitch is all beauty products aimed at women. This is going to be …” He grinned. “Something else… aimed at… well…”

Hermione could hardly contain her curiosity. “ _What is it_?” she pressed. “Just tell me.”

“Ha, I think I’ll just show you instead.”

Hermione smiled, fighting the urge to bounce in anticipation. “I’ll finally get to know what Snape’s up to.”

George raised his eyebrows. “Is that what this is about?”

Hermione felt her stomach drop, like she’d accidentally revealed a secret. Which was silly, because she had done no such thing. “It’s strange,” she said, “having him working on a joke item, even you have to admit that, George. Anyone would be interested,” she said.

“If you insist,” he said with a grin, and a look that she found rather unnecessary and, frankly, annoying.

He nudged her aside so that he could open a small drawer in the front of the writing desk. From inside, he pulled out a short wand. “This,” he said triumphantly, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger, “is my new invention.”

Hermione blinked, waiting, and leaning slightly away from it. Surely it would start spitting fire or some other such horrible thing. Spinning? Smoking? Turn to jelly in his hands?

“It’s not doing anything,” she observed.

“Not yet,” George said. “But it’s a wand!”

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “You know, dear,” she said gingerly, “they’ve already invented wands. Beat you by a few thousands of years, I’m afraid.”

George rolled his eyes, letting out a large sigh. “I know _that_ , Hermione. This is not an ordinary wand, obviously!”

“Does it … does it explode when you do a spell?” she asked, leaning further away from it. She ran both hands through her hair, smoothing it out. “You know I hate those exploding things you make, ever since that time my hair caught fire. It’s got a lot of volume, you know. Catches fire easily.”

“No, it doesn’t explode,” George said, shaking his head. “It does something…” he sniggered, his shoulders shaking. “It does something _much_ better than that.”

Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Oh, good,” she said, pleased. “What does it do, then?” She smiled. “Let’s see it.”

“All right,” George said, his cheeks flushed pink. “ _Pulsum_!”

A soft buzzing sound emitted from the wand, which started vibrating in George’s hand.

George was biting his bottom lip to control an onslaught of laughter.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said. “That’s it? That’s all it does, it vibrates?”

George nodded rapidly. He looked upon it so adoringly, it might as well have been his first born son. “Look, it goes faster too.” He shook it, and the lines of the wand began to blur as it increased in speed.

The more she looked at it, the dizzier she got; she averted her eyes, blinking rapidly. “So that’s it, then?” she repeated.

“Hermione,” George said with wide eyes, “what else do you want it to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She crossed her arms. “It’s just a bit of a letdown, to be quite honest. I mean, I thought, _Snape’s_ working on this. It must be something interesting.”

“Oh, the thing Snape was working on was something else.”

“There’s more?”

“Yes, did you not hear me say there’s a whole line of products?”

“Of vibrating products?”

“No! Bloody hell, Hermione, I know you’re not that thick.”

“But I don’t know what you mean!” she said desperately.

“It’s a line of sex toys!”

Hermione frowned. She must have heard him incorrectly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sex toys!” he said, waving the wand in her face.

Something clicked, and Hermione stared at the wand, which George was about to hit her in the nose with. “Oh, my God,” was all she could utter. “ _Ohmygod_.”

George was laughing.

“George, this is a family shop! Little kids come in here!” She didn’t find anything even remotely funny about this as George broke into even harder laughter.

“So we’ll rope off the adult section,” he said with a shrug. “Big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she insisted. “Your reputation is a big deal. Think what the mothers will say if they knew there was a _rated X_ section in a shop their kids visit.”

“Oooh,” George said exaggeratedly, “rated X!” He put his hand over his mouth and put on a horrified expression. “Oh, that’s just obscene, rated X! Oooooh.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “I am not a prude,” she felt the sudden need to inform him.

“Oh, no,” he said gravely. “Not at all.”

“Whatever, George,” she said, turning to walk out of the office. “Do what you want. It’s your store, after all. What can anyone tell you? What advice could anyone offer you? No, you know exactly what’s best.”

“Actually I do, Mum,” he called after her.

She stomped down the corridor and back to the front.

 

 

* * *

 

Since it was extremely unlikely that George would listen to reason, Hermione had no choice but to confront the enabler himself.

She had to do a bit of asking around to find Snape’s address, and then woke up bright and early Saturday to call on him. A surprise call, of course. She could go yell at him, and be back in time for her shift later that morning. It wasn’t until she reached his doorstep that she wondered if, in her almost manic excitement, she had overlooked the fact that he might not be home. But everyone was home Saturday morning, she told herself, taking a deep breath and raising her fist.

She knocked.

Then again, maybe Snape was away this weekend.

The idea made her laugh, and she knocked again, this time harder and for much longer.

Thuddy footsteps and a clicking noise from the other side of the door made her pause. Suddenly, she felt the desire to turn and run as far from Snape’s house as she could.

She was at Snape’s _house_ , and he was behind the door, and any moment it would ….

The door opened.

There stood Snape, and he did not appear happy to see her.

“Granger?” he said, his lips twisted in a most annoyed sneer. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off as he hissed through clenched teeth, “ _At sodding seven in the morning_!”

Hermione closed her mouth and opened it four times in succession. “Er… I… Er, hello, Professor…”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” Then the reason she was there came flooding back to her, and Hermione straightened her back. Setting her jaw in what she assumed was a severe glare, she said, “I want to have a word with you, Snape.”

“A word?” he asked, dragging the syllables. “At this hour?”

Hermione looked him up and down for the first time. He wore black silk pajamas, and his usually pin-straight hair was pulled back into a messy tie. He had clearly just rolled out of bed. With his hair pulled away from his face, she could easily discern the masculine features of his jaw, his bright eyes, and his strong, expressive brows. Hermione felt taken aback and slightly disoriented. She wondered if he had always looked so -- well, she might as well be honest -- _good_. Why had she never noticed this before?

She realized she had stopped breathing, and so she exhaled, ignoring the way her neck and face were rapidly heating up.

“What I want to talk to you about is of utmost importance,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and confident, and wishing the man wasn’t so imposing. “It couldn’t wait.”

Snape’s nostrils flared as he exhaled and considered her for a long moment. “Very well,” he muttered finally. “Come in, then, if you must.” He stepped aside and made room for her to enter.

Hermione nodded. “Thank you,” she said tightly. As she stepped past him, her shoulder rubbed against his surprisingly firm chest, and a zing of heat made her breath hitch. She doubted he felt it too, so she ignored it and continued into the small entrance hall.

She looked around Snape’s house.

“I like the way you’ve decorated,” she said, taking in the bleakness of the dark wood-paneled walls and the traditional brass fixtures.

“Don’t be snitty with me,” Snape said. “You came here uninvited, so I expect you treat me and my home with at least modicum of respect.”

Hermione felt a pang of guilt. Yet, she couldn’t allow herself to be spoken down to by him, not after all this time. “Or what, you’ll give me detention if I’m not good?” she said, quietly and with a hint of challenge.

The beginnings of a smile curled Snape’s lips, but it faded before it could take form. “What do you want, Granger?” he asked plainly.

Hermione straightened her shoulders again. A knot of embarrassment formed in her gut, but she tried valiantly to suppress it. “I want to know what you think you’re doing, creating...” she paused to gather herself, making sure she didn’t tremble saying the words in front of her former professor. “ _...those toys_ for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?”

This time, Snape grinned fully. “I’m not creating anything, Granger. I’m simply consulting, as Weasley asked me to.”

She said the thing she’d been wondering all along. “But why would he need your help, of all people?”

“Why don’t you ask Weasley that, instead of coming here uninvited and harassing me?”

Hermione looked away, having hoped she wouldn’t have to admit this. “He won’t tell me what’s going on,” she said in a small voice.

“Oh?” Snape sounded much too pleased. “Perhaps he didn’t want you to go spoiling his business with your prudishness.”

“I am not spoiling his business,” she said, “you are! You are encouraging him to make this terrible move which will cost him a lot of loyal customers. What do you think will happen if Wizard Wheezes turns into a sex shop?”

“That’s none of my concern.”

“Oh.” Hermione huffed. “Of course not. It’s not your responsibility at all -- you’re only _consulting_. My mistake.”

“Exactly,” Snape said. “Your mistake.”

Hermione glared at him. “And I’ll have you know,” she said, pointing her index finger at his chest, “that I am certainly _not_ a prude.”

“No?”

“No!”

“Then you wouldn’t mind seeing what I’m brewing for him.”

“I would love to.”

“Follow me, then.”

Before she knew it, Hermione was following Snape through the hall, around a corner to a small kitchen, and then through a door leading down a flight of steps. He had taken her to the cellar, although she never knew cottages had cellars. Looking around, however, she realized that this was Snape’s lab.

“You brew down here?” she asked, scanning all the shelves and jars and glass beakers.

“I usually make tea after I’ve woken up -- about an hour from now,” he added with a pointed stare, “and I bring it down with me. I like to spend a couple of hours every morning checking on the previous night’s experiments, and making the necessary adjustments, if any.”

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, pulled toward the worktable like a moth to a flame. A big round beaker bubbled with swirly, silvery liquid. She reached out as if to touch the glass, but held back, her fingers hovering just an inch away.

“That is precisely the potion I am brewing for Weasley,” Snape said, stepping up behind her. “It’s a very special potion, indeed.”

Hermione felt entranced by the swirls of silver, watching them move in circles as the potion boiled over a flame. “Was it boiling all night?”

“Yes,” Snape said. “This potion must come to a boil very slowly over the course of eight hours -- my timer there is recording how long it’s been bubbling.”

A tall hourglass with bright purple sand trickling through it stood on the end of the table. Its top was almost empty.

“A few hours more,” Snape said.

“What does this potion do to the drinker?”

“Oh, you do not drink this potion, Granger.”

Hermione turned around to look at him, and realized he was standing very close to her; she startled when she came face to face with his chest. She had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. “And why not?” she asked.

Snape smirked. Wisps of black hair had escaped the tie and hung around his face, framing his cheekbones. It gave him a ‘rolling-in-the-sheets’ look that made Hermione feel strange things in her stomach.

“I’ll show you,” he said, before stepping closer and reaching around her.

Hermione gasped softly, biting her lip painfully to _shut the hell up_ and stop making involuntary noises around Snape. The edge of the table held her up while his body momentarily pressed against hers. She shut her eyes tightly as her breasts pushed up against his ribs. He smelled somehow warm and clean, and she reached behind her to hold the table’s edge, leaning on it for support of her rapidly weakening knees.

Just as quickly, he took a step back again, and his touch was gone.

“This potion,” he said, holding a sample of the silvery liquid in a small vial, “is meant to be applied topically.” He sounded like a professor again all of a sudden, and Hermione wasn’t sure she liked it. She found she much preferred his less reserved self. “Although ingesting small amounts will not prove harmful, the user is encouraged to use it only on the skin.” He looked Hermione in the eye. “May I?”

“Sure,” she said, curious about the strange potion.

“Your arm, please,” he said, holding out his hand.

Tingly with anticipation, Hermione extended her arm to him.

He grabbed her forearm in a firm grip and turned it over, revealing the soft skin of her wrist. Hermione watched intently as he tipped the sample vial and dribbled a few drops of potion on it. The drops felt cool and sent shivers up her arm; or maybe that was the way Snape squeezed her forearm at that moment.

“Do you feel it?” he asked.

Before she could ask what he expected her to be feeling, he put the vial down and started rubbing the potion into her skin. His fingers made smooth circles on her wrist, and the touch went straight to her gut, sending delicious heat through her body… and straight to a certain place that made her want to squeeze her thighs together tightly.

“Well?” Snape prompted.

“Yes,” Hermione breathed. She could feel herself blushing. Refusing to look at his face, she stared closely at his fingers, which resumed their torturous ministrations.

“It’s a lubricant, as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now. What’s special about this formula in particular -- and what we spent weeks perfecting -- is that it never loses its slickness. It will retain its properties for as long as the…” he made a noise like a cough in the back of his throat, “... session happens to last.”

Hermione began breathing hard through her nose as a tingling sensation reached her cunt. She shifted from foot to foot to ease the sensation, and tried to quiet her heavy intake of breath. The worst thing was that Snape noticed, because he laughed softly, like he was enjoying her struggle at maintaining composure. He was probably enjoying it very much, the pervert -- and Hermione never thought she would think of Snape as such. But she was starting to realize that Snape was very much a man.

“Notice how it’s still slick against your skin.”

Snape’s voice was slick against her skin, Hermione thought. The more he rubbed the sensitive skin of her wrist, the more tingles shot through her body, this time reaching her breasts and nipples. She was aware that she was sticking her chest out, but she couldn’t help it, even though Snape was glancing down at it with a strange smile and a glint in his eye. She was acutely aware of her nipples and the pleasurable sensation thrumming through them. She wished Snape would touch her breasts.

And that’s when she froze.

“Enough,” she said, her voice gruff. She cleared her throat as she attempted to take her arm back. He held onto her for a moment longer. “Let go,” she said, pulling her arm back, and he finally did.

“A fun little invention, isn’t it?” he said. “Another special thing about this formula is that it heightens sexual pleasure. I’m sure you felt the distinctive tingling?”

Hermione swallowed hard. “No,” she lied.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You felt nothing? I could have sworn…” He trailed off and glanced briefly at her breasts, and then back up at her quickly.

“Maybe it needs some more tweaking,” she snapped, feeling the urge to be mean to him.

“No.” He frowned, looking almost disappointed. “It doesn’t.”

Hermione huffed and pushed past him. “Frankly, I’ve seen enough,” she said tartly.

“Oh, Granger,” his voice followed her as she marched quickly up the steps to the kitchen, “you’ve hardly seen anything yet.” She could hear the mirth drip from his words.

 

 

* * *

 

Hermione didn’t go into work. She went straight back to her flat and jumped between her sheets. The feeling tingling between her legs wouldn’t let up, and she had to relieve herself before she went insane. Closing her eyes and letting her mind stray to lecherous places, she spread her thighs and felt the soft sheets brush her knees and embrace her naked body. Her thoughts flittered back to the silky caress of Snape’s fingers.

Using her own hands to trace the path in her imagination, she pictured Snape making his way across her inner thigh, letting his fingers slide all the way up, searching out her quim. They were his fingers stroking there. His fingers prying her open and exploring her sensitive, wet places. His fingers dipping inside her, working her, until she felt the quivers of orgasm tremble through her from head to toe.

A soft purring startled her, and then she relaxed against her pillows again. It was only Crookshanks jumping onto the bed.

“What is it, kitty?” Hermione murmured as the cat crawled up to her and settled heavily over her chest. Hermione stroked him. “You’re getting to be a fat cat.” Crookshanks meowed again and Hermione smiled. “How dare you look when I’m having a private moment, you dirty, fat cat?” she teased, and then she sighed. “A very worrying moment. I don’t know what came over me.”

Just then, there was a tap on her window. Hermione grabbed her wand and flicked it at the latch, which sprung open. The owl pushed its way through and flew over to Hermione in a flutter of wings. She held out her hand to retrieve the letter, but the owl dropped it on the bed next to her.

It was from George, wondering where she was. Blast. She was late for work.

Her little solitary tryst from earlier left her too relaxed to properly focus. She was practically snoozing on the counter, cheek in hand, when the door jingled. Hermione made sure to stand straight and pretend she was alert.

Oh, no. It was _him_. What was he doing here? Her cheeks heated as he approached the counter. He had that infuriating smirk on his face, like he knew what she was thinking despite her efforts to hide it. He could see right through her. Hermione imagined he knew what she had done to herself earlier while picturing it was him, and she felt the dangerous curl of heat between her legs again. She squeezed her thighs, trying to dampen the feeling, but only made it worse and had to bite her lip to hide an intake of breath.

“Hello again, Granger,” Snape said, placing a brown-paper-wrapped parcel on the counter.

“What is this?” she asked, ignoring his greeting.

“ _This_ is for Weasley, and therefore none of your business.”

Hermione scoffed. Just then, the door behind her squeaked open and George brushed by her, standing next to her at the counter and extending his hands.

“Morning, Snape,” he said, shaking Snape’s hand once firmly. “Wasn’t expecting you today. Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” Snape said. “I’ve put the finishing touches on the lubricant. I believe it’s ready. Here is a sample of the final product.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “You two are reprehensible,” said said, feeling disgust at them both. “How dare you produce such a product that renders the user incapable of controlling their urges. It’s downright immoral, is what it is. Anyone who uses it becomes consumed with a need that is almost uncontrollable. Don’t you see how dangerous that is, especially in the hands of the wrong person?”

George looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “And how do you know what this lubricant does?”

Hermione stammered. She glanced at Snape, who looked like someone had struck him across the face. She wondered what he was so surprised about. He knew what he’d done, using that vile concoction on her. “Uhm, well. You see.” She set her lips together and lifted her chin. “That’s not the point. It’s a horrible product and you should be ashamed of yourself, George.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“In fact, I have a mind to tell your mother.”

“No!” George nearly jumped the height of the counter. “Don’t you dare, Hermione.”

Hermione placed her hands on her hips. “Just see if I don’t.”

“I’ll murder you.”

Snape sighed loudly, with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll be going, then. If you two insist on fighting like children, there’s no reason for me to stand here and listen to it.”

“I’m not a child!” Hermione said, though not intending it to come out so whiny. She avoided both George’s and Snape’s eyes, trying not to pout and make her case worse.

“Granger, I am surprised you believe the lubricant comprises consent,” Snape said.

“Doesn’t it?” she spat. How dare he suggest otherwise; he knew what he was doing when he used it on her this morning. He knew she would get riled up and hot. He wanted to embarrass her.

“On the contrary,” he said, “the lubricant is designed in such a way that it has no added effect whatsoever on the user -- other than the usual slickness -- if he or she doesn’t already harbour feelings of desire toward their partner.”

Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat.

“Yeah, Hermione,” George insisted with an almost frantic, pleading look in his eyes. “See, it’s not bad at all, so there’s no reason to tell mum about it. We can just leave her out of this.”

“Is that true?” she asked him.

George nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. What do you think we are, some sort of perverts? It doesn’t make anyone feel or do anything they don’t already want to do.”

“It heightens the effect,” Snape continued, staring at her with mild amusement written on his face. “What you tried this morning had an amplification factor of two. It only made you feel your own feelings twice as potently.” He stared intently at her. “Are you saying you _had_ feelings to double, after all?”

The air was becoming stifling, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Crookshanks walked across her hands, the silent movement of his paws distracting her.

“You bring your cat to work with you?” Snape asked, obviously unimpressed.

“Sometimes,” she muttered quietly, clinging to the cat and bringing him close to her chest, like a protective shield.

George’s gaze volleyed between the two of them. “What are you two on about?”

“Nothing,” Hermione said, taking Crookshanks with her as she stepped around the counter. “I’m sorry, George, I have to go.”

“There’s another half hour to your shift!”

“I’m sorry.” She made her way through the aisles of toys and knick knacks and through the jingly front door. The street was busy, but she felt calmer out here than in there. Outside, the air was abundant.

A moment later, the bell sounded again.

“Granger.”

She twirled around. "What do you want?”

“I want to say something.”

Hermione stepped up close to him, the cat hissing when she squeezed him a little too tightly as her arms tensed. “What is it?”

“I…” Snape looked down at Crookshanks. “I can’t talk about this with that bloody cat in the way.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Why not?”

“It’s ridiculous. It’s… it’s glaring at me.”

“As he should be!” Hermione petted Crookshanks, smiling at the dear. She made a mental note to reward him with fish for dinner for being such a valiant protector. “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of _him_.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Snape looked at the people bustling around them. “Can we at least go somewhere private?”

“I’m not going anywhere private with you.”

“I’m not going to murder you, Granger, I just want to talk.”

“About what?”

Snape heaved a heavy sigh. “About earlier. You know exactly what, you’re just being difficult.”

Hermione looked away, feeling her gut clench in embarrassment… and also, something else.

“What did you mean when you said you felt something?” he asked, his voice low. He stepped closer to her, his shadow falling over her like it was embracing her, and she felt a pull toward him. She ignored it. “What kind of something?” he pressed.

He swallowed, her eyes lowered to his chest. To his neck. Imagining the warmth and scent of it.

“Because, Granger,” he said, so quietly she had to lean in to hear, “I felt it, too.”

She looked up into his eyes, which seemed to blaze, and suddenly she felt too weak to be standing on the street. “I have to go,” she tried to say, hoping the words formed coherently. Because to be perfectly honest, she didn’t know. She just Disapparated home.

 

 

* * *

 

Hermone didn’t ask George about the erotica products again. She didn’t approve of them, of course. She told him repeatedly that if he wanted to open a _separate_ shop, one just for erotic themed products, that would be acceptable. But to sell the toys at WWW where children and families came in for the regular stuff was just sleazy, and she told him she refused to work for him if he did something so stupid. Eventually, probably to shut her up, George agreed to begin selling them through the post, like WWW had operated at its very beginnings. That, she could live with.

She also noticed Snape didn’t come around anymore. His Owls came frequently, but he himself stayed away. She couldn’t help but suspect it was because of her. He didn’t want to see her. He was probably embarrassed; as he should be, the bastard. Though she did glance up every time the bell made a _ding_ , expecting him to walk through the door. Not that she wanted to see him.

One day when she needed to check her next shift, Hermione noticed the back door was open. She decided to see if George was in his office so she could say a quick goodbye, but she found he wasn’t there. And the office, surprisingly, was cleaned out of all its crap. In place of all the wonky prank items were boxes and boxes, stacked up and ready for shipping.

Hermione walked in, her heart speeding up in her chest. She peeked into an open box, parting the tissue paper that protected the item inside. The short wand George had shown her weeks earlier in this very room lay there innocently. She traced her fingers over the writing on the lid of the shipping box. _Wicked Wands by Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes._

What was so wicked about them? From what Hermione could tell, there was nothing different about them from Muggle vibrators. But there must be something magical about this toy, she thought as she stared at it. She wondered if Snape had had a hand in this creation as well, along with the lubricant.

Something inside Hermione, something that felt wicked indeed, made her pick up the toy from its cradle of tissue. She might have been imagining it, but it seemed to thrum in her hand. Her shift was over and the second person had already come in, and George was nowhere in sight. She put the wand back in the box, clutched the box in trembling fingers, and Disapparated. 

As she stared at the wand, which sat atop her coffee table, she felt it was judging her. It knew she had stolen it. It somehow _knew._

Hermione bit her lip, ignoring Crookshanks’ purrs at her leg. “Not now, Crookshanks,” she muttered, nudging him aside gently with her foot. Crookshanks growled at her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the toy.

For reasons she didn’t want to explore, she picked up a piece of parchment and quickly penned out a letter. Part of her didn’t really expect a response. No, she doubted she’d get one. Which is why she was so shocked when not twenty minutes later, her Owl returned with the parchment rolled in its claw. Hermione grabbed it and read.

 

 

 

> _  
> All right, Granger. I’m on my way._
> 
> _SS  
>  _

 

 

Hermione’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. He was on his way. God, he was on his way! Did she look like a girl today? She rushed to the mirror and ran her fingers through her curls in an attempt to make them form some sort of shape. Not a minute later, someone tapped on her door.

Hermione jumped. “Oh! Coming,” she called. She practically leapt to the door, swallowing and telling herself to calm the hell down. Plastering a neutral expression on her face, she turned the handle.

Snape stood there looking his normal, miserable self. His hair hung to his shoulders, his expression said he was unimpressed with anything around him, and his robes were austere and black.

“How did you know where I live?” Hermione asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Move aside, Granger.”

Hermione resisted the instinct to say, _Yes, sir_ , reminding herself he was no longer her professor or an authority figure. She merely stepped aside, pursing her lips and beginning to regret her impulsive decision to ask for his help. What had she been thinking? Really?

Snape looked around her place with an unchanging expression, until his eyes landed on the wand. Then, a smile curved his lips like the one a cat might have made upon spotting a mouse.

“So,” he began, pinning her with a look that made Hermione feel squirmy, “you took this, did you?”

“Yes,” she admitted quietly.

“Funny thing is, I can’t say I’m particularly shocked.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Was he calling her a thief? So she had stole a Wicked Wand, so what? That didn’t make her _a thief._ “I’m going to pay for it,” she said, though the thought had only just crossed her mind.

“Of course,” Snape said, which only irritated her further. He took slow steps toward the wand and picked it up. He held it between his fingers, rolling it around as he examined it. “Creative, isn’t it? It was all Weasley’s idea to make it into a wand. I have to say, it’s an inspired design. It can be carried around practically anywhere, and no one unsuspecting would know what it truly was.” He looked at her with a smirk. “As much as that boy irritates me, there is no denying he is quite the entrepreneur.”

Hermione scoffed at the fact that George irritated Snape. “You’re going to be rich off his _irritating_ ideas,” she said.

“Undoubtedly,” Snape said. “But I was never in it for the money.”

“No?”

“No,” Snape said plainly. “Only the challenge.”

Hermione didn’t want to like that answer, or at least not to show it. “You did help him very much,” she conceded, hoping Snape would take the compliment and not ruin it with a snarky response. She decided to punctuate it with, “You’re very smart; the two of you are a rather good team.”

Snape didn’t say thank you, but neither did he say anything aggravating. He just looked at her for a long moment before he began to walk toward her. Hermione held her ground against the instinct to step back.

“You are very intelligent as well, Granger,” he said, and she wondered if her chest could feel any lighter in that moment. “I wonder why you haven’t figured it out.”

In truth, she hadn’t even bothered to try. There were no instructions in the box, and she hadn’t even held it long enough to operate it in any way. The first thing she’d thought of was to ask Snape.

“And I also wonder,” Snape said, “what you’re doing working as a till girl.”

Hermione resisted the urge to sigh. It wasn’t particularly a subject she wanted to explore with him at the moment. It was hard to explain, and even she didn’t quite know what was going on with her. “I’m just… lost at the moment.” She gave a quick, noncommittal shrug.

She expected some sort of insult, or some cheeky comment about how she was wasting her life just to rub it into her face, but instead, Snape surprised her with neither of those.

“You’re young,” he said. “You will find yourself in time. You have the luxury of time now.”

He might as well have pulled out his wand and Stunned her.

Her brain could not come up with a suitable reaction to nice-Snape, so she changed the subject back to the matter at hand. “I need your help,” she said softly.

Something darkened in his eyes. “With the wand?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “You see, George told me the spell to make it vibrate. But I assume you wanted to create something more special than a typical Muggle vibrator.”

“And you want me to show you what it does?” His eyes were fused with intensity that both scared and excited her.

“Yes.”

“Are you positive?” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Positive.”

Snape let out a rumbling sort of sound from deep in his throat. Then he moved toward her, grabbed her roughly by the waist and pulled her into him. Her chest bumped into his, and her lips parted as she exhaled hard.

Without warning, he gripped her shirt from the back and pulled it over her head. She made a squeaky sort of noise as her hair got caught, but then the shirt came free, and he flung it to the floor. Before she had time to process the fact that she now stood in her bra, he did the same to her trousers, pulling them down. Then he lifted her like a ragdoll to yank them out from underneath her. Hermione wondered at his strength, having completely not expected it.

She soaked her panties when he pushed her onto her own sofa, and she fell with a _humph_.

“Spread your legs,” he directed.

She complied instantly. She couldn’t form words in her head as her body burned up. He pulled her bra down to expose her breasts, the cups folded underneath them, pushing her breasts up so her nipples pointed up at him. Oh God, what was happening? And why did she want it to _keep happening so badly_?

“Move down,” he said. “And I said spread your legs!”

A whimper escaped her as she hurried to comply, scooting down so her arse was just off the edge of the sofa and spreading her legs as far as they would go. His voice was so demanding and deep and confident, she couldn’t resist following his directions. Her body told her to obey at all costs. Her mind was fuzzy with the beginnings of heady lust, so she didn’t think of anything but listening to the desire in her body and, most importantly, to Snape’s voice.

“I’m going to insert the wand into your cunt, Granger,” Snape said matter of factly. She let out a rather embarrassing grunt-like noise as her body approved of the idea. “Pull your panties aside and show it to me.”

As if in a trance, Hermione reached down, took up one edge of her drenched panties, and pulled the material out of the way, exposing herself.

“Good,” Snape said, as if she had correctly completed a Potions assignment. “But how am I supposed to see your hole, Granger? Think! Part your cunt with your fingers so I can see it.”

Of course, he was right. How would he see her cunt if she didn’t do that? She suddenly felt incredibly foolish. She touched her pussy with both hands, adjusting her grip on her slippery inner lips until she was able to hold them apart.

Snape observed her cunt for long moments, during which Hermione was sure she could feel herself leaking under his intense scrutiny. Finally, he brandished the toy wand, holding it close to his face, and whispered the charm, _Pulsum_. It began to buzz, its edges blurring before her eyes as it vibrated rapidly.

“Keep that cunt nice and open,” Snape said as he lowered the wand between her legs. When the tip of it touched her sensitive skin, Hermione convulsed, arching her back off the sofa. Snape grabbed one of her nipples in a firm, painful grip and hissed, “Stay still.” She obeyed, whimpering from his punishing grip on her nipple and, at the same time, from the sensation of the wand inching into her.

It was hard to keep breathing at a normal pace, and Hermione found herself panting. Snape let go of her nipple, and he pulled his hand away. Hermione felt deliciously dirty lying there, in a degrading state of undress while Snape remained fully clothed. She felt like the subject of a perverted experiment. He did not touch her, only fucked her with the wand, and she felt acutely like being under observation.

She closed her eyes, and again, he grabbed her nipple. This time, he pulled it painfully. “Keep your eyes open,” he commanded, “and look at yourself.” She did as she was told, immediately dropping her chin and staring at the wand going in and out of her cunt.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, as shameful heat bloomed over her cheeks at the instant apology that left her lips. At least it made him let go of her flushed nipple.

Snape said something that Hermione didn’t hear. Nothing happened at first, but then, she felt a pressure inside her. She saw the base of the wand, the part Snape was holding, expand in his fingers. _The wand was expanding inside her._ It grew thick -- very thick. In moments, it was an inch and a half around, and Snape let go. The toy continued to fuck her on its own. The new girth drove her insane, and she wanted to throw her head back against the sofa and close her eyes. But she dared not disobey Snape and take her eyes off the toy. She even readjusted her grip on her pussy lips to keep ahold of them.

“There are a variety of commands,” Snape said calmly, as though this were a perfectly normal demonstration, “magically infused into the toy. It is the most versatile insertable you will find anywhere. It changes size in length and, as you are experiencing, in girth. It can become as small and round as an egg so that the user can wear it outside underneath their robes. It can vibrate or pulse or fuck all on its own. It’s designed to tease, to deny, to… torture.”

Hermione let out a groan as she was fucked roughly by the toy. The force of it pushed her over and over again into the sofa.

“Now that you know how it works,” Snape said, gripping the bottom of the toy, “I think you’ve had enough. _Finite Incantatum_.” The toy stopped.

Hermione breathed hard, finally looking up into Snape’s face. She could only imagine how sweaty her brow was, how red her cheeks, how frizzy her hair. She held his gaze as he slowly pulled the toy out of her.

“You may let go of your cunt, Granger.”

Hermione did, but she felt empty and somehow… lacking.

The toy turned back into a wand in Snape’s hand, glistening with her wetness.

“It can be used as a cane,” Snape said, “if you say the lengthening charm.” He looked her in the eye and an evil smirk formed on his lips. “Would you like your nipples caned, Granger?”

Hermione swallowed. “I…” She tried but could not form words. Still, if she were forced to speak, she knew she could never deny him.

Snape’s smirk widened. “Maybe another time. Right now, I would very much like to fuck you.”

Hermione found herself nodding frantically.

Snape made that growling noise again and began to undo the buttons of his robes. When he could part the bottom, he undid his trousers, and then pulled out his cock. Hermione let out a tiny gasp. His cock looked amazing in that moment, flushed at the head, hard and ready for her. She wanted it, badly.

Snape leaned over her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him in. She felt his cock breach her, and she was already so stretched and wet that it slid in _divinely._ Not painful in the least, just hot and hard and so, so satisfying. He began to move his hips and fuck her hard, and Hermione made obscene noises as she buried her face in his chest. It was brilliant. She became lost in the rhythm of it, her mind blank but for the pleasure.

Suddenly he pulled out of her. She was about to protest when he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her up. He carried her a few paces to the nearest flat surface, which was her dining table. Pushing all the parchment off of it, which fluttered wildly onto the floor, Snape set her down on her back. He pulled her close until their hips aligned, and he reentered her. He watched as her breasts jiggled every time he thrust into her cunt. Hermione nearly came from the sight alone -- Snape fully dressed and domineering, standing over her as he fucked her, disheveled as she was. Her cunt began its inner spasms, and soon she was orgasming with her eyes shut tightly. Her cunt pulsed over Snape’s cock, and he tightened his grip on her thighs. He thrust once, twice, and then three times into her as he came with a grunt.

His come trickled down her thigh when he pulled out. Hermione could hear him inhaling hard as he reached into his robes for his -- real -- wand. He began to say the spells for cleaning up the come from his black clothing.

She panted as she tried to catch her breath. Her mind swirled in a happy, dazed sort of way. “I’m definitely paying for that toy,” Hermione said between breaths.

 

 

* * *

 

“Hermione,” George said, his arms crossed across his chest. He looked like he was one second away from tapping his foot against the floor. “There’s a box missing from my office. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Hermione felt her face burn up, and she turned away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “If you can’t keep track of your own shipments, that’s not my fault.” She was much too embarrassed about the whole thing to admit to having taken the wand. Maybe later, when the memories of Snape’s hands and voice stopped haunting her fantasies at night, she would own up to it and repay George for the wand. But right now, she was mortified by the thought of answering his questions. What did you do with it? _Snape came over and fucked me with it before giving me the best orgasm of my life._

George rolled his eyes and went away into the back. Hermione told her guilt to sod off, and she turned back to her work.

The door made a jingling noise, and Hermione straightened quickly and finished counting the coins in the till before the customer reached the front. As she closed the money drawer with a sharp _cling_ , a voice made her heart nearly stop in her chest.

“Morning, Granger.”

Hermione looked at Snape. “What… What are you… You never come into the store anymore.”

Snape smiled that knowing smile. “I felt like a change today.”

“Apparently.” Hermione licked her lips and tried to appear calm and collected. Only her body felt anything but, thrumming with nerves and memories of that night. Seeing Snape was like a trigger that made her melt into a puddle of arousal.

“I wanted to check the first week’s sales in person.”

“As you should.”

“With Weasley.”

“Naturally. He is your partner.”

“And there was something else I had to do in person.” Snape stepped closer.

Hermione inhaled and held it.

“I would like to see you again, Granger,” he said in a low, quiet voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Hermione lifted her chin slightly. “That’s a tempting offer,” she said, “but I am not interested in doing… _that_.”

It was so subtle, but she thought she saw Snape’s face fall. “Oh?” he asked under his breath.

“I mean,” she said quickly, “not _just_ that.”

The tension seemed to leave Snape then. His shoulders relaxed and the smirk returned to his face. “Would you care to elaborate, Granger? Just so I understand fully.”

“I want to see you… but…” This was harder than she thought. Oh, for goodness’ sake. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I want to see you properly, not just, you know... If we are going to do this, I want to do it properly.”

Snape’s smile widened. “I meant to ask you to dinner, Granger, relax.”

“Oh.” Hermione couldn’t fight the smile that curved her own lips. “Well in that case. I accept.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. So you will reply to my Owls now?”

Hermione grinned.

The door squeaked behind her, signifying George came out of the back. “Ah, Snape!” he said. “Nice to see you. Are you here to talk wands?” George wriggled his eyebrows. “Wicked Wands?”

“Absolutely,” Snape said.

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on tumblr: [@heyitsamorette](https://heyitsamorette.tumblr.com/)


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